


Somedays

by memorywolf



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Dresses, Genderfluid Character, M/M, but a warning just in case, everybody else except for Lindir's parents are supportive, genderfluid!lindir, i dont know if it counts as a trigger, imladris is a good place, unsupporting parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:29:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorywolf/pseuds/memorywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somedays Lindir wakes up wanting to wear a dress, somedays he doesn't. This is the story of Lindir from elfling to adult oppressing himself because of his shit parents and finding people who care and love for him. And also Lindir in dresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somedays

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from tumblr user songbirdlindir's headcannon of Lindir being genderfluid and him liking dresses but being oppressed because his parents did not approve. I researched as much as i could on gender fluidity but of course there might be flaws and something might not be right so if you ever notice one just tell me and i'll fix it :)

Red, blue, green, and grey. Cotton, silk, velvet, and linen. Any and every colour and fabric that made up of the robes, dresses, breeches, leggings and every other clothing, Lindir could appreciate them. He himself has robes of an array of colour and fabric, preferring to be ever changing instead of sticking to one type, it made his long life less dull, to a certain degree. 

But more than robes, tunics or leggings; he liked dresses. The curves on the waist, the round or square necks framing collarbones, the flare of the sleeves and skirting, the ribbons tied on either chest, waist or back, and sometimes the double layered dresses, he loved sorting through them. But mostly he liked shifting from left to right in front of his mirror, watching the smooth cloth swish around his body, the softness of the silk sleeves frame his arms, the pale skin of his neck and top of his chest bared from the low square neckline, smoothing his hand over the curve and flare of the waist.

He remembered looking at the ellyth in the markets when he was but an elfling, watching the way their dresses framed their bodies and imagining the dresses he had seen at the shops on them. His parents had teased him, his ada telling him to find a beautiful elleth to bring home and his nana waving away his father’s statement then telling him the most important thing to look for was a good heart. He had only blushed and laughed away their teasing. 

In truth he was not looking at the ellyth, he was only admiring their dresses, wishing he could wear one. Of course, he knew it was not to be, none of the Ellyn he saw ever wore a dress, it was known and understood. Yet, he yearned to try them. And try he did. It was a day he knew his parents would not be home, leaving him alone to do as he wished. He had asked leave from his lessons and snuck into his parents’ room to try on his nana’s dress. To say it was fun was an understatement. He felt it was the day he felt most attractive, the chest of the dress was poking out because he had no breast but it was beautiful nonetheless.

After that day he never touched his mother’s dresses again, afraid he would be caught. He roamed the markets, his measly allowance in his pocket, eyes darting left and right afraid to be caught. He searched for the dress he wanted, he could only afford one and it was easier to hide it from his parents if he only had the one. He told the seller that he was buying it for his nana, shifting his weight from left to right nervously, the seller had patted him on the back and told him he was a good son. 

He loved and cherished the dress, the light blue and white contrasted well with his dark hair and eyes, the ribbon that was tied on the chest tightened the dress so even if he did not had breast the front would not jut out, and the cotton was soft and would not wrinkle easily even if he had to fold it over and over until it was small enough to fit behind the cupboard in his room. 

And thus he had kept his secret, taking it out to wear only when he was sure he was alone in his room and his parents had no need for him. Some days he would be home alone with nothing to do, yet the thought of wearing the dress did not appeal to him, and some days he would either be out and about or his parents would be home when the sudden want to wear the dress would hit him, it was all very confusing. 

But it was as the saying goes, paper can never wrap up a fire. It was a day he loathed to remember. The day where his ada walked in on him in a dress, it was the only time his father had ever hit him, and the words he uttered were still etched deep in his mind even after an age, “I had a son, not a daughter.” He had said. Lindir was very sure his father would have killed him in his anger if not for his mother stopping him. He did tear and burn the dress though, Lindir cried himself to sleep the days after that. His father never spoke to him after that day, never so much as look him in the eye; his mother cried at night, he supposed she thought no one could hear, but he did. 

Life was already crumbling down as he knew it, but up jumps another surprise; his parents had sent him away. He was angry, angry at them for not loving him enough to accept him, and also angry at himself for being so hard to love. And because he never wanted to be hated by people he loved the way his parents did, he tried to change. Warrior training was rough and straining, days where he returned to his rooms without bruises of some kind were rare. Some days he revelled in sweating under the sun in his tunic and leggings, some days he wanted to be indoors in a dress with a book; some days he wanted both –to fight and ride horses in a dress or to simply avoid violence at all and read in silence-. 

He spent many years thus, until the fateful day when he met Lord Erestor. The Lord could tell he sometimes had no taste for violence, and sometimes no taste for books; he understood him. He took Lindir under his wing and taught him of books and politics on days where he wanted to stay indoors; and on days where he yearned to sweat under the sun the Lord continued his lessons on swords and bows, Lindir was very grateful. 

But no matter how happy he was with the Lord, there was always one thing that crept in the shadows at the back of his mind that he was sure no one would ever understand, his love for dresses. He had been able to restrain himself from buying another gown, he was terrified his friends and mentor would reject him as his parents did; he never wanted to feel as he did then ever again. 

And so it was his hidden secret, buried deep in his heart; he could never cast it away, he had tried but it did not work, and so he hid it away. His life went on; he found out his parents had sailed when he went back for a rare visit, they did not even deem him worthy enough to at the very least notify him, any love he ever had for his parents that day was ground to dust. He went on to work as Erestor’s assistant in Gil-Galad’s court, fought in wars and cried for the loss of their high-king and his friend, followed Erestor to Imladris, and fell in love with the kind and friendly Lord of Imladris. 

And it was after many centuries of heartbreak for his Lord, confusion of his ever-present wishes, love and compassion for his Lord’s children, sadness for Celebrian’s sailing and the Lord and his children’s sorrow and anger, exhaustion of forever being in the shadows of his Lord and never having his loved acknowledged, surprise when that was exactly what the Lord did, and happiness for finally knowing love. It was after many centuries of that until he came to the day where his secret was discovered, by none other than his lover and his daughter. 

Maybe it was the too long glances he gave the gowns and dresses whenever they went into the market, or maybe it was because some mornings he woke up feeling like an elleth instead of an ellon and somehow Elrond could see into his mind and know how he felt. Lindir did not know. But Elrond had found out. Lindir had expected to be thrown from the valley, chased out with hateful glances and scathing remarks; he was surprised when it was not. 

Elrond had accepted him, talked to him, explained to him that it was not abnormal, that it was fine to wish to wear dresses one day and breeches the next; he had loved him the way his parents had not. Lindir had cried and expressed his undying love for Elrond and continued to cry. And so Elrond had bought for Lindir a few dresses of his choice, often telling him it was alright to wear it out of their rooms, but Lindir could not. 

Elrond had, of course, been angry at what his parents had done to him, he had spent hours upon hours trying to undo the damage they had done. He had recruited his daughter –after he had gotten permission from his lover that it was alright to tell her- in trying to convince him that in the house of Elrond, no one judged. Arwen had given him her old dresses, the ones that she could no longer fit into, they were all in good condition of course, never let it be said that Arwen did not take care of her clothes. Lindir had thanked her profusely and been happier ever since, Elrond could see the poison of his parents were slowly being flushed away, he worked hard to get rid of it completely. 

Lindir cried a river again when Elrond offered Celebrian’s dresses and gowns to him, “She would love for you to have these, meleth nin.” He had told Lindir. Lindir had been so touched, that Elrond would be willing to give the last memories he had of Celebrian to Lindir, that he trusted Lindir so much; he believed that he could love Elrond no more than he did then.

Lindir smiled at the memories while he dried his hair off. Tonight there would be a feast, nothing too elaborate, just a simple gather of Imladris’ occupants to eat, make merry and enjoy the stars of the night after a hard year’s work. Lindir knew something would happen during the feast, he had seen it in his lover’s eyes, he was planning something and no matter how many times Lindir asked he would not relent, telling him he would know when the time came. Lindir snorted, he only hoped the father of Elladan and Elrohir did not suddenly want to relive his younger and wilder days, Valar knows the clean-up will be horrible after that.

He turned his head up for a kiss when Elrond walked into their room, which the peredhel granted. “I have something for you love.” Lindir stood and draped his towel over the back of a chair, he gave his hair a final fluff and turned to look at Elrond who was walking towards their cupboard. He raised his eyebrows and followed after his lover, “What is it?” 

Elrond looked back at Lindir, his hands were inside the cupboard, holding something out of Lindir’s view, Elrond smiled. Lindir felt his jaw drop when Elrond pulled what he had been holding out from the cupboard. It was beautiful. Beautiful did it no justice, it was otherworldly. It was silver at the top and gradually the colour faded to a pale Aegean blue and ended in a deep purple, the gems sewn onto it made it shine like stars on a night sky from the waist down, the sleeves were made of sheer material that glittered, the neck was wide from shoulder to shoulder, there was a small gap between the shoulder and arm, and most shockingly to Lindir, the chest was flat. 

“I had this tailored for you.” Elrond paused as if contemplating something, “I was hoping you would wear it tonight, if you wish it.” He looked hopefully at Lindir. Lindir stood utterly astonished, he did not know what to say, so he thanked his lover. Elrond smiled at Lindir and placed the gown over Lindir, nodding to himself when he saw how well it would fit his lover. 

Lindir didn’t know what to do. Should he? Elrond had many times told him that anyone could be whatever they wanted to be in his house, none would be judged for their likings. And true to his words, Lindir had indeed seen a few Ellyn donning dresses when he had bothered to pay attention enough. But it was just that he himself could not, it was an irrational fear of being seen with a dress on, he had feared. Elrond and Arwen had tried their best to convince him to try, maybe a step out or maybe just to the gardens outside their rooms, and though he managed to improve slightly, bit by bit, he could not possibly stand in front of an audience in a gown. 

Or maybe he could. Maybe it was time. Time to start being who he was and not who his parents wanted him to be, time to show the world that Lindir was neither ellon or elleth and both at the same time. Maybe it was time to believe in himself. No, it was definitely time to believe in himself. 

He took the gown from Elrond and nodded. Elrond grinned and gave him a kiss then rested his forehead against Lindir’s, “A’maelamin, you can do this.” Lindir smiled and nodded again.

Lindir slid his bathing robe off and let Elrond help him into the gown, feeling the soft slide of silk over his skin, the comfortable tightness when Elrond helped him lace up the ribbons on the back, the slide of the bottom of the gown against his feet, it was blissful. His lover turned him around when he was done, “Lle naa vanima. I shall have more than the stars to admire tonight.” 

Lindir blushed at the compliment, he turned to look at the mirror and felt his smile spread wide. He was indeed beautiful, the gown fitted him so well, probably because it was tailored but still, he felt he was a sight to behold. 

He waited for Elrond to change into his own robes; his sly lover, his robes were in the same shades as his gown, they both would be a beautiful pair. Elrond draped a soft black scarf over his exposed shoulders, “It will be cold tonight.” He explained. Lindir smiled and thanked his lover with a kiss. 

He took a deep breath when he stood in front of the door, this was it, it was time. He mustered up all his bravery and pushed open the doors, placed his hands on the crook of Elrond’s elbow, and both walked down the stairs, through the gardens and into the hallway leading to the banquet hall. 

He had tensed up when they came across the first elf-maid, only Elrond’s hand on his helped him relax a little. The elf maid looked up and gasped, then she quickly bowed to her lord and looked back up at the major domo, “Lord Lindir, you look most stunning tonight.” She gave him a blinding smile. Lindir managed to stutter out a thank you, getting the first taste of how Imladris would react to him in a gown. 

And as they went on, many of the elves they came across complimented his looks and their paired up clothing, it boosted Lindir’s self-confidence and he now stood up straighter, eyes looking ahead and no longer at the floor, chest up and shoulders back, his new posture made the gown frame him even better. 

They turned a corner and came face to face with the twins. Elladan and Elrohir took a step back and looked the pair up and down, then they grinned, “Ada, are you sure this night’s feast was to gaze upon the stars in the sky and not the stars that shine before us?” 

Lindir let out the breath he had been holding. Yes, this was going swimmingly. The twins chatted with them as they made their way to the hall, distracting Lindir from further compliments paid to him by other elves. Lindir still had someone’s opinion that he worried for, his mentor. 

As they walked into the hall and down the tables to the ones at the front, heads turned and conversations halted, many were whispering among themselves compliments of Lindir’s gown and how well it fitted him, they were only loud enough for Lindir’s elven ears to pick up. This was what Elrond had wanted him to know, that the whispers would never be of malice, if anyone ever had anything to whisper about, it would be of compliments and awe. 

Erestor paused in his conversation with Glorfindel, wondering why the hall suddenly fell into silence, it was a rare thing to have on such an occasion. He turned to where everyone else was looking, then he too understood why the attention had shifted. Lindir was in a gown. A very beautiful gown. And also Elrond had matching robes on but that wasn’t as important. 

What was important was that Lindir was stunning. He supposed he should have known about this, he did know Lindir the longest out of all of them. He remembered that he did speculate when he had first known the younger elf, he would get different feelings from him from day to day, thus their randomly alternating lessons. But Lindir never told him and he never wanted to pry, he did his best to give counsel to the elfling struggling with his identity and hoped he would come to a conclusion himself. And it seems like he did. 

Erestor brought Lindir into a hug when he neared, then putting him at arm’s length and looking him in the eye, “You are beautiful pen-neth.” He could see a coil in Lindir visibly unwind, like he was waiting for Erestor to judge him. 

“Thank you.” Lindir replied, his eyes telling his mentor that the gratitude was for more than the compliment; It was for all that he had every done for Lindir, taking him under his wing and tutoring him, believing in him and taking his feelings into considerations, never prying into things Lindir was not ready to reveal, being there for him when his parents abandoned him, and of course, being the best friend Lindir could ever want or need. 

Erestor patted him on the shoulder and smiled, proud of adult that the little elfling had become. In his eyes Lindir would forever be an elfling, one that he had nurtured and healed to the best of his abilities. Lindir was dear to him. 

They took their seats. Elrond smiled at his lover, as if saying ‘I told you so.’ Lindir had only laughed in cheeriness and joy, this was a wonderful and freeing night indeed. When all the occupants had arrived, Elrond stood and the hall fell silent again. 

All elves present hearkened intently as their Lord gave his speech, sometimes nodding and clapping, when their lord raised his cup to toast, he was followed by all present with cheers. And when he sat back down, the feast began. 

After the feast, everyone moved outside to the gardens, some lounging on the grass while others sat in the gazebos. Lindir looked up at the skies, with one hand holding a glass of wine and the other clasped tightly with Elrond’s, he sent his thanks to Elbereth, life was good.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: http://petalsofelrondir.tumblr.com/  
> songbirdlindir's headcannon: http://songbirdlindir.tumblr.com/post/119905140666/songbirdlindir-headcanon-when-lindir-was


End file.
